To Parry or To Feint
by ilovetvalot
Summary: Seeking to distract Hotch from his current crisis, Emily kidnaps him and they revisit a portion of his past. Co-auth'd w/tonnie2001969. This story will be three chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**To Parry or To Feint**

**Chapter One**

Emily Prentiss was tired, but not the physical kind of tired associated with strenuous activity. At this point, she would have much preferred the fatigue that came from overuse of her various muscles. But that was not to be the case this time. No, instead, her soul was tired. And from experience, she knew this kind of lethargy was much more exhaustive.

The entire team was running on fumes…and frayed tempers. Not a day had gone by that they hadn't dealt with a harsh word, a cross look, and worse, the not-so-infrequent temper tantrums. And for perhaps the millionth time, she wondered exactly how much longer any of them could withstand the pressure.

None more so than Aaron Hotchner.

Sighing as she glanced upstairs toward Hotchner's office, she shook her head as she noted the fluorescent light still shining through the plate glass. Glancing at her watch, she frowned in surprise as she realized it was after nine. Damn!

Tilting her head back up as she stared at the bright light on the landing, she asked herself what her options were. Did she intercede and try and entice him out of his self-imposed prison or should she leave him to his misery? On several occasions over the last several weeks, she'd tried, continuously, to roust him from the strict confines of his office. Shaking her head at the memories, she asked herself what good it had done her. When he hadn't coolly rebuffed her, he'd been outright antagonistic, both emotions that Aaron Hotchner apparently majored in at college.

But what could she do? She supposed she was a sucker for hard, complicated men in crisis. Ergo her current dilemma. And her apparent choice.

Squaring her shoulders as she made her way toward the staircase, Emily racked her brain for a method to help her complex boss release some of the tension he carried around like a second skin. She knew which method she'd like to use, but throwing herself at the man sounded so clichéd, and she prided herself on her imagination. Therefore, she'd need to employ a second method.

Now, if only she could think what that could be.

Biting her lip as she slowly climbed the shallow steps, her mind recalled the few brief years he'd worked within her mother's details. Surely she could mine those memories for a clue into his past, couldn't she? There was something…a hobby, a pastime she'd seen him immersed in. The memory hovered just on the fringes of her mind, alternately tantalizing and frustrating her. If only she could grasp it!

Suddenly halting in her ascent, Emily snapped her fingers in victory, a wide grin spreading across her face. Fencing! Hotch enjoyed fencing…or at least he had several years ago. Ha! At least now she had an approach, a way to perhaps redirect his attention if only for a few stolen moments. And maybe, just maybe, she could help him relieve some of the frustration that the last few weeks had built up inside the man…before he exploded.

Picking up the pace now that she had a plan forming in her mind, she rapidly climbed the rest of the stairs. Halting just outside his door, she spared a moment for a cursory knock before pushing the door open. While she wasn't going to barge her way in unannounced, she also wasn't planning on giving him the option of avoiding her.

Glancing up from his stacks of paperwork as he heard the slide of his door, Hotch frowned. "Prentiss," he greeted, inclining his head slightly as he took in the raven-haired agent hovering inside his doorway, "Thought you'd gotten out of here."

"Had some reports to finish up," she shrugged, making up an excuse for her presence. If he knew that she'd simply been shuffling papers around her desk in an effort to stay close to him, he'd be furious. Aaron Hotchner did not tolerate being "handled", and she had successfully managed to keep him from realizing that she had been doing that very thing for weeks.

"Is there something I can do for you?" he asked, lifting a dark eyebrow in inquiry as she slid into his office.

Taking in his furrowed brow and signs of fatigue settling around his lips, Emily knew that she had arrived at her plan at just the right time. "No," she murmured, moving toward the couch where he'd slung his suit jacket. Running her fingers over the soft fabric as she picked it up, she turned to face him squarely as she announced bluntly, "I'm kidnapping you."

"Pardon me?" Hotch asked, shifting back in his desk chair to gaze at her with surprised eyes. Emily Prentiss had always been an enigma to him, and his over-crowded mind wasn't sure if had truly heard what he thought she had said.

Taking a moment to savor his shock, Emily grinned. "Come on, Hotch. No questions," she said, extending his jacket towards him with a slight wave. Raising her eyebrow, she gently commanded, "Put on your coat and let's go."

"Prentiss," he murmured, lowering his eyes back to his desk, hoping to remind himself of the necessity of his current endeavors, "I've got a lot of work here to take care of before shifting things over to Morgan. So, if this isn't important, I'd prefer you to leave me to it."

Avoidance thy name is Aaron Hotchner, Emily thought to herself with a frown. But no matter what his excuse might appear to be, she wasn't going to allow him to escape so easily this time. She had come to realize that he was quite accustomed to being able to summarily dismiss her. In fact, he was entirely too comfortable with that ability. But not tonight.

Grimly, she stared at him, dropping her hands to her hips as she bunched the jacket in a fist. "Hotch, everything on that desk is still going to be here in the morning. Trust me when I tell you, Morgan is out living his last night of freedom up to his maximum potential before his temporary…what did he call it? Oh yes, before his prison sentence serving the evil that is Director Strauss begins."

Snorting as he stared down at the file on his desk, Hotch offered a rare half-smile, shaking his head at the thought. "Sounds like Morgan."

"Yes," Emily nodded, taking advantage of the small break in his well-defined shields. "So come with me and take some time for yourself."

Licking his lips, he slowly raised his gaze to meet hers. As much as he wanted to take advantage of the lifeline that he could feel her offering, Hotch was almost afraid to reach out and take it, not wanting to subject her to his current mood. "Emily," he said regretfully, "I'm not much company right now."

No news there. "You don't need to be for what I've got planned. Come on, Hotch. Put your coat on and let's get out of here," she urged, holding his coat out and shaking it slightly.

And when she saw him nod and push back his chair, she knew at that moment that she had been successful in her mission. Schooling her face into her normal staid, poised expression, she just waited for him to step in her direction.

"I hope you know what you're getting yourself into here, Emily," he finally said, surrendering as he took the coat from her extended hand.


	2. Chapter 2

**To Parry or To Feint**

**Chapter Two**

Two hours later, Emily laughed breathlessly as she feinted right, thrusting her weapon and hearing the satisfying clang of steel meeting steel as their sabers clashed. Small rivulets of perspiration ran down her neck, the bib of her mask capturing the moisture with ease as she swayed to the side.

Hotch was good. No, she thought with a mental headshake, better than good. Hotch was excellent. Graceful and lethal, his body flowed as he backed her toward the wall, advancing across the room with well calculated swipes of his weapon.

When they'd arrived at her parent's vacant mansion, he'd given her a quizzical look, apparently questioning her mindset as well as her motives. Obviously, it had been the last place on earth he'd expected her to take him. Neither one of them had much patience for Elizabeth Prentiss and her theatrics, history not having been kind to either of them. But, as he'd reluctantly followed her through the silent hallways toward an unknown destination, he'd genuinely laughed when she'd opened the door to the fencing room. And, if she lived to be a hundred, she'd remember that happy sound for the rest of her life.

As she'd walked easily into the long room and flipped on the light, she'd heard his disbelieving deep voice ask, "You're kidding right?"

"I remembered that you had a thing for fencing," she shrugged, merely raising an eyebrow as she added, "Nothing like a little civilized violence to get the adrenaline pumping, right?"

"I haven't done this in years," he had murmured, adeptly catching a protective mask mid-air as she'd tossed it to him. Though he'd protested that his skills might be rusty, she had been able to easily tell that his reflexes were still at the top of his game.

"Then it shouldn't come as a surprise when I hand your proverbial ass to you, should it?" she had told him, smiling sweetly as she'd scanned the room quickly, ensuring that everything was still in place.

"You fence?" he'd asked her with incredulous eyes and a tone that said he didn't quite believe her. Emily Prentiss was a contradiction in terms, her outward appearance never quite matching up to her actions. And a part of him was always pleased when he found yet another anomaly in this amazing woman.

"Boarding school requirement," she'd informed him carelessly, with an easy shrug of her shoulders that dismissed any further discussion. Meeting his dark eyes, she had asked, knowingly, "Sabers or epees?"

"Sabers," he'd chosen definitively, his hand already subconsciously moving into the proper grip for just such a weapon. "Unless, of course, you're scared," he'd added with a slightly challenging tinge to his voice, his dark eyes suddenly daring her to choose a lighter, less lethal weapon.

"Sabers, it is," she'd smirked at him, knowing that his mind had definitely made the switch, all other thoughts a faint imagination for him now. Not taking any time to congratulate herself on her choice, she'd just smiled as she'd nodded to a door just beyond his shoulder. "Protective gear's in the changing room. I'll meet you back out here in five."

Now, as she feinted left again in an effort to evade his sweeping blade, she was grateful that despite her protests, her father had forced her into practicing this sport while she'd been away at school. Those hours of dreaded combat had left her with a less-than-joyful appreciation for the sport. But that was then, and this was now. The bitterness she'd felt then was worth the satisfaction she felt now, seeing his face finally relaxed as he parried forward.

As Aaron skillfully maneuvered her into the corner, she saw the thrill of victory in his eyes as he lunged forward, pinning her to the wall with one final expert thrust.

Meeting his eyes, Emily gasped, her voice hoarse with exertion and appreciation of his skill, "I concede."

Drawing back, Hotch pushed his mask up, face smiling as he appropriately dropped his sword to the padded mat, away from the two of them. "Concession from a worthy opponent. Those words are music to my victorious ears."

"Arrogance is NOT an attractive quality, Hotch," Emily panted, sliding down the wall behind her as she moved her weapon a distance away from them. Resting her head against the wall, Emily accused with a petulant tone, "There's no way you're an amateur at this."

"Never claimed to be," Hotch grinned, carefree for an instant as he dropped uncharacteristically to the floor beside her. Tilting his head as he glanced her way, he admitted, with a touch of pride, "I went to Harvard Law on a fencing scholarship."

"Aaargghhh!" Emily groaned, dropping her chin to her chest. Half-laughing, half-sighing, she added, "I should have known. You had a distinct advantage then! You should have given me a handicap."

Watching the raven-headed agent next to him, he blinked for a moment as he took in the unguarded expression on her beautiful face. Shaking his head, Aaron countered, "And let you have the upper hand? Trust me, you gave as good as you got, Emily."

It didn't escape her notice that he had made the transition, his mind already referring to her by her first name. Sitting in comfortable silence as they each recovered their breath, Emily murmured, "You look better."

"I needed this," he quietly confided, resting his head against the wall behind him. The small whir of a fan served only to provide a comfortable background noise, the only other sounds in the room coming from the two of them.

Nodding, Emily didn't need to voice her agreement. He already knew.

"I've got to give you credit, though," he said, looking around the room with a growing smile on his lips. "This was creative. I thought you might have lost your mind when you pulled in here."

"Desperate times called for desperate measures," Emily shrugged, as warmth spread through her body at his words. A part of her was pleased that she had chosen exactly the right outlet for his frustration. "And, I knew I wasn't in any danger of a parental reunion. I think they're in Zimbabwe this month," she said with a roll of her brown eyes. "Mother has a Goodwill Tour of the African peninsula."

"Ah," Hotch drawled, knowingly. His experiences with Elizabeth Prentiss had been stilted at best, and he had often wondered how a woman as caring as Emily had come from the same family. "That would explain it then."

Raising a brow, Emily snorted in slight derision. "Don't use that tone with me, Hotchner. You of ALL people know how she is," Emily retorted defensively. "I'd have had better luck growing up if I'd been raised by a pack of wolves."

"There is that," Hotch nodded agreeably, lapsing back into companionable silence. Something about this moment, this unexpected break in time, gave him pause, letting his mind wander for a moment. After a few minutes, he quietly offered her a sidelong glance and asked, "Do you ever get jealous of the others?"


	3. Chapter 3

**To Parry or To Feint**

**Chapter Three**

"Jealous? Of the others?" Emily repeated, furrowing her brows as she studied the angular lines of his profile. He was handsome, that was a given, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was more drawn to the man that dwelled with in him rather than his outward appearance. "I'm not sure I know what you mean," she prodded softly, not wanting to cause him to shut down just when he had started to open up.

"The fact that everyone has someone but us," he murmured huskily, careful to avoid her eyes. Feeling that he needed to give more, to explain his thoughts, he added, almost jerkily, "I mean, JJ has Will and Henry, Reid has his mother, Garcia has Kevin, Morgan has whatever the flavor of the moment is. Hell, even Rossi has his dog. I think he loves that mutt more than he did his three ex-wives combined."

"You have someone, Hotch," Emily replied softly. How could he think he was alone? Had he withdrawn so far into himself, farther than she had thought, to imagine such things?

"You sound so convincing when you say that," he muttered, smiling bitterly. How could he tell her that he wondered every morning, noon, and night if he was doomed to walk the rest of this life alone, no son, no family? No one to love.

"That might have something to do with the fact that I mean every word I say," Emily responded evenly, walking through the open door he had just provided her. Recognizing his unspoken need, she added, confidently, "Your son isn't gone forever, Aaron. He'll be home soon."

"God, I hope so," Hotch whispered, resting his slack hands over his knees. Her words seemed to float around him, providing a protective halo that he hadn't felt in entirely too long.

"He will," Emily murmured, convicted that she was right. Another outcome simply wasn't a possibility. Not for Jack. Not for their team. And most of all, not for this amazing man sitting beside her.

Turning to stare directly at her, he caught the flash of knowing in her eye as he asked, softly, "What about you though, Emily?"

"I don't know what you mean," Emily evaded, suddenly uncomfortable with the shift this conversation had taken. The shields that protected her so well were slightly lowered at that moment, and she felt that he had made an unexpected parry into her personal soul.

"Who do you have?" Hotch asked, keeping his eyes on her as he mentally catalogued her expression, unexpectedly wanting to keep that memory in his mind.

"I suppose," Emily said softly, her voice uncertain, "right now, I have you." She held her breath as the words hung in the air between them, wondering if she had inadvisably crossed the invisible line that hung between them like the third rail.

It was only when she watched as he slowly leaned toward her, that her lungs seemed to remember how to function. As he slowly covered her parted lips, she heard his quietly spoken, "And for that, I'll be eternally grateful." Feeling his soft, dry lips touch hers tentatively, Emily gasped slightly at the contact, her eyes fluttering shut. She'd envisioned a lot of different possibilities for the way this evening would end, but this had never entered into her imagination.

That wasn't to say that she hadn't fantasized more than once about the way his lips would feel moving across hers. Nothing, however, compared to the reality. The way his mouth molded itself to hers…the feel of his tongue stroking hers like wet velvet. The actuality was so much better than any dream she'd ever had. Determined to enjoy this stolen caress, she purposefully slammed her shields down against the outside world and concentrated on the slow sweeps his tongue made against hers…the feel of his warm palm cupping her cheek….the slightly coffee tinged taste of his kiss.

Slowly yielding against his chest, she moaned involuntarily as she slowly felt him break the kiss. "Hotch," she asked shakily, wondering how she was speaking when she wasn't even certain she could think, "What was that?"

Smiling slightly, he cocked his head as he stared down at her moist lips, still slightly parted in shock. "That was me deciding whether to parry or to feint." The beauty sitting beside him had just taught him a lesson that he would never forget, and he was certain that he wanted to spend more time being tutored in her presence.

"Did you make up your mind" she asked, praying for the former rather than the latter. For once, she wanted to step outside of the painted lines, but only if he was coming with her.

"Parrying, in my opinion, was always so much braver than a cowardly feint," he whispered, bending his head to capture her lips again.

**_FINIS_**


End file.
